Enslaved by Posh Totty: Whipped & Chaste

By Giles English

Ever wondered what would happen if you took part in a college Charity Slave Auction while secretly wearing a male chastity device?

When Brett tries this, he ends up “bought” by the bossy Pippa, a posh young lady of statuesque proportions. She had planned to lose her virginity with him. He had planned a last adventure before dropping out of college. Instead he ends up enslaved by Pippa and her upper-class roommates.

Can he cope with arduous domestic service, increasingly brutal discipline, callous erotic exploitation, and playing fly on the wall as lesbian tensions blossom into steamy encounters... all while locked in permanent chastity?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giles English
• Release date: Feb 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463607008

Giles English

What's it like when women are in charge FOR REAL?That's what I love to write; hot Femdom stories where the women have all the power. In my books there's no safeword, no way out... plenty of orgasms for the ladies, and domestic service, harsh discipline, and permanent chastity for the men.I like my dommes to feel like real women. The girl next door comes into her own with a whip... the sweet lesbian couple gain a chaste male slave, but don't really notice the way he's always watching and dripping as they make love... the angry ex turns the tables, painfully... the castrating bitch finds permanent chastity an amusing substitute.My books go to dark places with dark emotions, a million light years from "Have you been a naughty boy then?"And I write Femdom from experience. I've been my wife's slave for the last 8 years. She's kept me sealed in permanent chastity for over a year. She routinely disciplines me, makes me sleep in my cell, uses me for her pleasure, or forces me to kneel and watch impotently while she plays with her vibrator.I am a chaste slave. My heroes are permanently chaste slaves. Read my books and find out what it's like...

Book preview

Enslaved by Posh Totty: Whipped & Chaste

by Giles English

Copyright 2019 Giles English

Chapter 1

We’re here, drawled Pippa. She opened the door and waved a muscular arm to usher Brett inside.

The blond Amazon’s tone went straight to Brett’s Happy Happy Chaste Boi Purity Device(tm).

Posh totty! Brett grinned nervously. He’d had a distant crush on Pippa for years, but he’d never realized how very sexy she sounded; like an aristocratic who’d arrived at a country mansion and not an expensive-looking modern apartment block.

Oh do come on, we’re late, she drawled.

Now Brett’s penis swelled against the inescapable ceramic bars. Panic clawed his spine. Wearing his chastity device to the Student Union Charity Roman Slave Auction had seemed like a good idea at the time….

At least six foot tall with curves that threatened to split her pretty summer frock and shed it like a cocoon, everything about Pippa was made to be obeyed. Even so, Brett hesitated. I’m not sure I should do this.

The summer breeze bushed Pippa’s cloud of blond hair making her look like a radiant goddess. It also snaked between Brett’s bare thighs and lifted the hem of his fake Roman tunic revealing his Batman boxer shorts to the entire street.

A passing group of girls giggled.

Blushing furiously, Brett clutched at cheap fabric and prayed that his chastity device wasn’t visible through his underwear.

Very Marylin Monroe, said Pippa. Now come on. Let’s get you inside, she boomed in what must have been her outdoor voice: English, aristocratic — posh! — and more suitable for bossing horses around than for people. Think of those poor homeless kittens...

Brett felt the whole package — genitals, hi-tech chastity device — lift slightly against his underwear. He clamped the skirts of the tunic against his thighs. It was a donkey charity, he corrected.

The homeless donkeys as well, boomed Pippa. Her big hand caught his wrist and she tugged him inside. "It’s too late for second thoughts! I’ve paid my two hundred pounds. You’re my slave for the next 24 hours."

At her words, the blood flowed from Brett’s brain to his captive penis. He let the statuesque girl lead him to the foot of the stairs. She released him and took the concrete steps ahead of him, powerful legs taking five at a time. "Come on!" she repeated. She made a double-clicking sound as if urging on a reluctant horse.

Brett stumbled and tried to clear his mind. But it was no good, she’d pinged his fantasy about her. He had a flash of her striding across the campus in her riding gear, britches so tight they could have been painted on, whip tucked under one arm, knee length boots adding to her already formidable height. She wasn’t wearing boots right now. Instead strappy high-heeled sandals webbed her muscular calves.

Brett followed after her, gazing at her powerful legs. The sight set off little spasms in his chastity device. This had to be better than spending his last hours as a student locked in his dorm room watching porn and getting cheap thrills by toying with the Red Button.

Pippa turned to look down on him from the next landing. Hurry up.

Below, the apartment block door banged open and a warm breeze tickled Bret’s legs. He felt the hem of his Roman tunic lift again. He clutched at the cheap piece of costume. You should have let me go home to change. He could at least have had a chance to unlock his chastity device.

Pippa gave a snort of laughter. Now you know what it’s like being a girl. Another click-click. She watched him with twinkling eyes until he had almost caught up, then turned and restarted her climb. She passed a window and the afternoon sun rendered her dress transparent, treating Bret to a glimpse of her bra strap and briefs clinging to her undulating figure.

Head whirling, Brett stumbled after her. That look in her eye… was she expecting sex? The key to his device was back at his room. How would he explain the chastity device to posh, clean-living Pippa?

She stopped at what must be her front door and stood there like a goddess.

What the hell, thought Brett. He’d taken part in the Roman Slave Auction because he’d wanted to do something crazy. Seducing a posh girl while dressed as a Roman slave with a hi-tech chastity belt locked around his genitals was probably as crazy as it got. He could remember this when he was working a burger joint, or wherever it was Computer Science dropouts ended up. The pressure in his groin returned.

The apartment door opened and Brett followed Pippa into the stuffy interior.

Female cheers greeted Pippa.

Brett froze in the doorway.

The apartment was full of girls in togas, white fabric, bare limbs…

Brett felt dizzy. Then he noticed the silence. All eyes were on him. He blushed, ducked his head, and wished he could climb inside his chastity device for safety.

"I thought it was no men," said an olive-skinned girl with natural-looking dark hair. She had her arm around the waist of a curvy girl with dyed black hair, white Gothic makeup and a studded collar above her toga. Tattoos swirled over her bare arms.

Pippa snorted. Don’t be silly, Bryony, she said, addressing the olive-skinned girl. Brett doesn’t count, he’s here to serve drinks and stuff. She gave him a shove, pushing him into the room. The door closed behind him.

Gosh! Hello Brett, lisped Audrey, the toothy red-head from Running Club.

Brett glanced around. There were other faces he recognised. All the upper class girls from around campus — a couple from his class.

Brett cheeks burned. His knees trembled. He just wanted to sprint for the door. I.., he stammered.

Audrey paced forward, putting one long bare leg in front of the other like a tightrope walker. Her toga was more mini-dress than Roman costume, but then she was a little taller even than Pippa so perhaps that wasn’t deliberate. She bent one knee, crossing her slender ankles. Soooo, what on earth are you doing here? she asked, her accent as upper class as Pippa’s but — thanks to her big front teeth — a little wet sounding — a reminder that a moist mouth lay behind her lips rouged a deeper red than her hair.

Brett tried again.

Pippa interrupted. The Charity Slave Auction had a Roman theme this year. She grinned. "So I thought; Why not buy us a slave? She threw up her hands. This is our last Girls Together Toga Party ever. Let’s make it authentic!"

Hurrah! drawled another girl. Well he can start by fetching me another drink.

Pippa ducked down to hiss in Brett’s ear. "Go on, slave. I have to change. Wine and nibbles are in the kitchen. Just keep circulating them. You’ll be fine."

Brett nodded dumbly. He found the wine and started patrolling with a pair of bottles; one red, one white. He kept his eyes lowered, at first out of embarrassment, but then so he could feast his eyes on the forest of female legs, some curvy, some sleek, and all those delicious feet, painted toenails peeking out of sandals of every kind. Despite the balcony windows being thrown open, the room was hot. Nobody was smoking and the scent of fresh female perspiration wound its way through his nostrils, down his spine and into his caged groin.

Somebody lifted his tunic and smacked his bottom sending shock waves to his chastity device. He yelped and stumbled.

Watch your step…, said Bryony, the olive-skinned girl. There was nothing playful about her smile. "…slave."

Brett fled away into the crowd. He worked his way around a gaggle who were counting as a butch girl with cropped hair did pull-ups on a wall-mounted bar and approached the back of a sofa. Two girls held up their glasses without breaking their conversation; Summer Internships, Alpine skiing holidays, and Brad Pitt’s declining charms. Brett might as well have been invisible—which suited him fine. From where he stood, he could see down the front of their togas and get a good look at their cleavages. His chastity cage seemed to ripple around his cock. He smiled to himself. Being a slave wasn’t too bad.

So Brett… lisped Audrey.

He turned.

Audrey towered over him, trapping him against the sofa back. She’d unbound her hair. Now carrot-red tresses draped over her loose toga which exposed one freckled shoulder and the top of a creamy breast that was just below his eye level.

Brett stared and imagined sliding his hand inside the toga. His cock heaved and rippled inside its cage.

The toothy redhead’s jaw dropped. She blushed and put both hands over her mouth and blurted, "Golly. He’s looking at me." She shifted weight from foot to foot setting her pert breasts quivering behind their flimsy screen of fabric.

Brett stared harder, his cock hammering against its cage. The gauche redhead wasn’t wearing a bra. Was she completely naked under the toga?

Audrey flicked back her hair, set her chin, and continued as if she hadn’t said anything gauche. So Brett. I’ve not seen you at Running Club for ages.

Brett coughed and felt suddenly aware of the way his tunic left his legs bare down to his sandals. I… What could he tell her? That he’d been busy failing his degree and surfing Internet porn.

"Ah there you are, slave!" boomed Pippa.

It was Brett’s turn to blush.

Now wearing a calf-length toga and still in her strappy high heels, his statuesque mistress for the evening steamed through the crowd, a head taller than all the others except Audrey, and looking every bit the authentic goddess. Come help me finish off the vol-au-vents. She half turned then twisted back to put a hand on Audrey’s freckled arm. "You’re not meant to talk to him, darling. He’s just a slave."

Brett bowed his head and navigated through the shifting forest of legs towards the kitchen. A foot shot out — he recognized Bryony’s olive skin — but he skipped over it and fled after Pippa. Behind him, Bryony said something that made the girls around her giggle.

When he caught up with Pippa, she was bent over the kitchen table piping filling into vol-au-vents. At last, she said without looking up. The position made her ample breasts swing forward so that the v-neck of her toga framed a long cleavage just waiting for him to reach out and…

She grinned at him. What do you think? I did the puff pastry myself. They’ve only just cooled enough.

Brett didn’t belong in her world. She had privilege, wealth, confidence — class in all senses of the word. She was posh totty, and he was just a loser who’d blown his one chance to better himself. Great, he said. What you want me to do?

"What to you want me to do, mistress," she corrected.

Cheeks burning, he repeated her words while his caged cock twitched wildly beneath his tunic.

I’ll do the fillings, she said. You lay them on the dishes as I’m done."

They worked in silence except when Pippa had afterthoughts and got him to dig out ingredients from the fridge. As he handed her a jar of olives, she smiled down at him and touched his cheek. Her hands were slightly clammy, but the contact made a tingling sensation spread out over his face. His penis heaved inside its cage.

I could get used to this, she said casually but with a warm look in her blue eyes. Boys in my circles are only after one thing.

Brett’s penis twitched against its prison. What had possessed him to lock himself in that chastity device, let alone blow his money on it? Now he had to fend her off. But I’m not in your circles.

She snorted. Exactly. She stooped and kissed him on the lips. Thanks.

For what?

Being a good sport about being my slave, she said.

The last two words seemed to echo inside Brett’s chastity cage. Head whirling, he stared up at the statuesque blond.

Without looking away, Pippa took the olive jar from him and set it on the table. Then she caught him in a bear hug, crushed him to her soft bosom and ground her lips into his. Her mouth opened. Her teeth scraped his lips, then her tongue slid out and pushed into his mouth.

He gripped her waist feebly feeling the curve of her hip through her toga. Panic rose up in his chest. His pelvis twitched involuntarily as if it could drive his rock hard cock free of its prison.

Pippa’s hands stroked his back. One reached down under the hem of his tunic and caught his buttock. She twisted free of the kiss and he felt her hot breath on his ear. I’ve got condoms in my bedroom.

Ice water seemed to flow down Brett’s spine. I’m not sure slaves are supposed to have sex… mistress.

She pushed away. All expression left her face Of course. The rules of the Charity Slave Auction. Those poor orphaned wombats.

Brett’s shoulders slumped. A stone settled in his stomach. He couldn’t think of anything to say to make things right.

The kitchen door swung open, letting in the shrill noise of the party. Where are those vol-au-vents? asked Bryony. Her dark eyebrows lowered. Did I interrupt something.

Nothing at all, said Pippa brusquely. "Go on Brett, do your duty. For the kittens."

Brett grabbed a tray and headed out into the party. One of the pastries tumbled. He caught it with his forearm. At least he could not drop Pippa’s precious vol-au-vents.

The hem of his tunic lifted. Cold air swirled around his thighs.

Take a look at his briefs! cried Bryony. Nerdy or what?

A circle of girls hemmed him in. They giggled and pointed.

Hey! said Brett, but there was nowhere to put the tray.

A crime against fashion, snorted another girl.

In the dustbin with them! said the Goth girl he’d seen with Bryony earlier.

Bin! Bin! Bin! chanted the ring of girls.

He felt nails nip his waist. Get off! He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go, and still nowhere to put down his tray.

The boxer shorts slid down his thighs leaving his caged groin naked beneath the tunic. They pooled around his ankles. Bryony kept tugging, trying to get him to raise his feet so she could steal the garment. If somebody else lifted his tunic, then they’d all see his Happy Happy Chaste Boi Purity Device(tm).

Audrey appeared through the throng. She stared down at his boxers. Her green eyes twinkled. Gosh! She giggled. "They are a bit nerdy."

Matt pushed the tray at her. Take it, please. He used one hand to clamp his tunic to his humiliatingly caged groin and — squatting — with the other grabbed at his boxers.

The plump Goth girl appeared in front of him. She grinned slyly and gave him a shove.

He rolled backwards, bumped into some legs, and found himself looking up a girl’s toga. Slender legs rose up to bracket a skimpy black thong with wisps of pubic hair escaping the edge.

His boxers came away from his ankles, taking one sandal with them.

All at once the girl stepped back, somebody screamed. Bryony remarked dryly, Kinky.

The circle of girls now pointed at his caged groin and laughing… all except Audrey whose green eyes became as wide as dishes. She dropped the tray of vol-au-vents and fled.

This isn’t happening, said Brett. He rolled over, somehow got to his feet and fled through the laughing crowd until he hit a door. He slipped inside and slumped against it.

The door bumped a few times as people tried it. He heard Bryony’s voice, harshly amused. Then the laughter died away and the party went on